


The Sleepover

by deanlovescastielswormstache



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlovescastielswormstache/pseuds/deanlovescastielswormstache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Castiel's house floods and it's late at night, so Dean offers him the couch in his living room, ignoring the voice in his head that tells him that it won't help him try to forget Castiel. Despite his doubts, he and Cas have a good time and Dean realizes that Cas isn't just a good friend, and that just maybe John Winchester was wrong. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sleepover

Dean didn't understand what his problem was. This was completely normal. He was letting his best friend crash on his couch because it was late and Cas' apartment was flooded. Everyone had friends stay over. _Everyone but you,_ a little voice in his head whispered. Dean stopped having guys over to his house when it became clear to John Winchester exactly what Dean thought of a nice ass, no matter if it was on a girl or guy. Dean snorted and pushed a hand through his soft hair. It wasn't a big deal, he repeated to himself, he would keep his hands to himself, even if Cas was hot and everything that Dean wanted to fill the empty hole inside of him. Cas would be here any minute now so Dean threw his phone on to his bed and grabbed some extra blankets and pillows, bringing them to the living room where Cas would be sleeping. The couch wasn't too gross, seeing as Dean did not often eat on it and after brushing it off and laying the blankets over the back, he nervously looked around his apartment, checking that he hadn't left any clothes around, because while Cas knew Dean was kind of a slob, he didn't want Cas to step in his underwear. That would be weird.  
  
Cas arrived and Dean wiped his hands on his jeans because damnit, his palms were sweaty. Dean suggested ordering pizza, which they did. They proceeded to eat, trading work stories and joking around until the pizza was gone. As usual, Cas did the dishes while Dean dried them and tidied up the table. They headed to the living room couch to watch some Doctor Who, after a dispute about what to watch. Dean hated Doctor Who, but Cas loved the show and Dean got to pick dinner so he lost the argument, even though Cas loved pizza just as much, if not more than Dean which is why he had suggested it. Dean followed Cas into the living room and sat on the couch as Cas fiddled with the TV, Dean grumbling throughout the whole thing. To be honest, Dean didn't even mind Doctor Who very much. Other than its shockingly low violence and no cussing whatsoever it was alright, especially because both the Doctor and his companions were easy on the eyes. Cas sat on his side of the couch and curled into Dean, chuckling at the antics of the Doctor every so often. A familiar ache moved into Dean chest and spread through his body. He knew this ache-longing. It always seemed to appear around Cas and by now Dean knew exactly why. His hand twitched towards Cas' hand, but he never even brushed it, too many things stopping him.  
  
Eventually, Cas relaxed against him and began breathing more deeply. Dean realized he had fallen asleep. He continued to sit on the couch by Cas, letting him sleep on his shoulder, much longer than he would ever admit. Cas' warmth radiated through Dean, and now that Cas was asleep, he reached for Cas' hand, clasping it in his as he watched the Doctors adventures unfold. And when Amy and Rory Pond jumped off the building, he may have teared up just a little. Without even realizing it, Dean turned his head to kiss Cas' hairline. Dean froze, hoping that Cas wouldn't wake. Cas just sighed and buried closer to Dean. Dean let out the breath he'd been holding, the excuses he had ready if Cas did wake, unable to pay attention to the rest of the episode, just absorbing Cas, here, on his couch, curled into him and sleeping while they watched TV. This is how it should always be, Dean realized. But he quashed the thought, remembering John Winchester's words when he found out that perhaps Dean wasn't as straight as he would like to think.  
  
Cas stirred, lifting his head off Dean's shoulder as he blinked at his surroundings. Dean immediately felt the loss, felt the walls come back up. "Sorry," Cas mumbled, though he seemed to still be somewhat asleep, his voice deeper and his hair tousled, and God, Dean just wanted to run his hand through it.  
  
"Whatever man," Dean said noncommittally, wanting to reassure Cas but keep his dignity. Dean avoided Cas' probing eyes. Damn, they could just see too much sometimes. "I'd better let you get your beauty sleep," Dean commented, pasting on his usual smirk as he poked fun of Cas, trying to restore some semblance of normalcy to the situation. Cas snorted, recognizing Dean's boorish evasion tactics by now, but he let it go and Dean was grateful. Dean left the couch to switch off the TV, reigning in his scattered emotions with a robotic efficiency that he had developed throughout the years.  
  
Dean looked back at the couch, at Cas and knew he had to make a clean getaway before he invited Cas to sleep in his bed or worse, shoved him back into the couch and kissed the living daylights out of him. He gestured to the blankets on the back of the couch. "Blankets are there and pillows are on the armchair," he gestured awkwardly.  
  
"Thank you Dean, I really appreciate it, especially on such short notice." Cas got up to start arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch. Dean swallowed because, fuck, Cas was going to sleep on that couch and he would never be able to look at it the same way again.  
  
Dean nodded, watching the shirt ride up Cas' back, only trusting himself to say "Good night Cas."  
  
"Good night" Cas murmured as Dean walked towards his room. At the doorway, he stopped and turned, watching Cas make himself at home in his house, and something warm stirred somewhere in Dean's stone heart. A smile touched his lips as Cas hummed his way through his actions, but Dean caught himself as Cas started to strip and Dean turned away, walking into his bedroom and quickly dropped his clothes to the floor and pulling on his flannel pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt before collapsing on his cold empty bed. He curled up and whispered "sleep well" to the empty room, wishing he'd had the guts to say it earlier. Sleep was a long time in finding him.  
  
Dean woke up around three. His throat was parched, and though he hated to disturb Cas, he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep without assuaging his thirst. He moved quietly through the dark house, his feet padding softly on the carpet. He navigated his way to the kitchen, and quickly grabbed a glass and put it under the tap. He drank it, and it felt glorious against his parched throat. Dean resolutely ignored the fact that Cas was sleeping in the next room under a lump of blankets.  
  
On his way back to his room, Dean paused in the living room, eyes drinking in Cas' figure curled up on his couch, imprinting the image in his mind, his smooth brow, strong nose, dark stubble and slight smile gracing his lips as a stubborn strand of hair hung over his forehead. Dean knew that his fingertips would never run through Cas' hair, that he would never caress Cas' cheek, because Cas loved when he knew that Dean could not. Perhaps it was this thought that urged him forward, desperate to assure himself that Cas was real, that Dean wasn't completely made of ice. He sat on the edge of the couch, watching Cas sleep as he pushed the errant strand of hair back. Cas' blue eyes opened and met Dean's, somewhat bewildered. Dean knew he should leave, knew he shouldn't want this. But Cas caught his wrist and wrapped his hand in his.  
  
"I can't Cas, I'm sorry," Dean croaked, ignoring the prickle behind his eyes and the yawning ache that consumed him.  
  
Cas just smiled serenely, understanding filling his eyes. "I know." And damn, if Dean didn't love him in that moment.  
  
"I don't know how," Dean admitted, meeting Cas' eyes with difficulty, eyes that burned with something that Dean didn't want to name.  
  
"Just hold me" Cas said, pulling Dean down next to him. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and didn't let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my personal blog [here.](http://deanlovescastielswormstache.tumblr.com) I swear there is still some Destiel.


End file.
